Stricken Resolve (24 page)

Once I hit the third step, my ears are
assaulted by the moans and screams of two people fuckin’. Which
means A. My kids aren’t in this bus, they are next door, along with
Dylan, and B. Johnathan came to the bus to fuck, not spend time
with the twins. What a dirt bag.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, and I hear the sound of
a loud slap echo all the way into the living room of the bus. What
the hell!?

The Wall, is right behind me. Apparently he
already parked the car and I hold my finger to my mouth. Telling
him to be quiet and he smiles, nodding.

Another moan slashes through the air and I
giggle, holding my hand to my mouth. Both me and Bruce sit on the
couch and get comfy. I toss a red Stricken merchandise blanket over
my legs and cuddle up next to him. His arms resting along the back
of the couch.

“More Master, I need more.” I hear a….. Oh my
fucking god! That is Cammy!!

Immediately, steam starts to puff out of my
ears and nose. Turning me from sad to fury in less than a second.
Cammy and Johnathan? Johnathan and Cammy! You’ve got to be shitting
me, right?! I am one big fucking dumbass and apparently so is she
for sleeping with him. Idiot!

“Listen you slut, shut your fucking mouth. Or
I’ll be shoving two of these didoes in your ass instead of one. You
get me my bitch?” He barks at her. I mean—really lashing out at
her. What a jerk! And she’s in there taking it. How stupid is this
woman?! Oh my god!!!

“I’m sorry Master, I just love you and your
cock.” She wails in—I’m pretty sure it’s pleasure. Wait… She loves
him? Now I’ve heard everything. This is ridiculous and here I
thought Johnathan wasn’t lying to me, and I surely never expected
her to be lying to me. I wonder how long this little sick sex thing
has been happening. Is it old? Or is it relatively new? Since I did
just tell him I could never love him the way he wants.

Knowing Johnathan, he’s been tapping that
blonde for months. The whole time they both lied blatantly to my
face. Feeding me a line of bull crap. Like I can’t take the truth?
Why? I had James. I was over the whole loving Johnathan thing or
I’m pretty sure I was.

More moans, more grunts, and a few boisterous
orgasms echo in the cabin, as The Wall and I sit here. It doesn’t
turn me on. Each noise is just building my anger. Fueling this
flaming inferno that now has me busting at the seams ready to
consume them. The juvenile liars.

Seeing James and now this. What’s is up with
DC? The last time I was here, was the whole drug thing and the
sleeping with that woman. I swear I’m never coming back to this
city. It fucks with my head every single time. Screw you DC!

“You okay, my bitch?” I hear him ask her.

“Yeah, just thirsty,” her wrung out voice
responds.

“I’ll be right back; I gotta wash up and I’ll
get you some water,” he tells her and his bedroom door quietly
opens, and he steps out buck ass naked. I don’t say a word. I just
sit here and so does The Wall, who doesn’t seem to care. He’s just
playing…. I peer over at his screen.… He’s playing poker on his
phone. Cool.

The bathroom door opens, flooding the bunks
with light and out strolls a naked Johnathan. Not paying a bit of
attention. Opening the door to the fridge he grabs a bottle of
water and I clear my throat.

This should be good.

Startled, he jumps like ten feet in the air,
yells and drops the water bottle on his toe.

I can’t help but laugh as he turns around
with his semi-hard cock swinging, and bends down to pick up the
water bottle and rub his injured foot.

“What are you doing here?” he finally manages
to let out, and I can’t stop laughing and I’m laughing so hard that
my buddy Bruce over here is chuckling under his breath too. I have
tears flowing down my face and I swipe them away.

“I saw my ex-fiancé tonight. Didn’t say a
word to me and he left. That’s either a good thing or a bad thing.
Can’t decide. So I ended up crying and Brucey over here decided to
be a nice guy and bring me home early, and I come to find this.” I
fluidly gesture around the room, with both my hands. Sitting up on
the couch, my legs still tucked under me. Trying to contain my
boisterous laughter. But it’s nearly killing me.

“Who are you talking to?” Cammy asks.

“It’s just me, Cammy. Don’t you worry you
sweet lying heart,” I yell loud enough that she can hear me. But I
stay calm. I don’t blow up. Even though I really want to bash
asshole over here upside the head with a frying pan for lying.
Where’s an iron skillet when ya need one? I wanna play me some grit
ball. Actually, where’s Madea when you need her?

I cross my arms over my chest. I think
Johnathan’s in shock or something, because he’s staring at me.
Mouth wide-open, green eyes bugging out of his skull.

“Close your mouth, have some decency will
ya?” I chortle, and land my gaze on his dick. Which is now entirely
flaccid.

He follows my gaze and his body startles in
realization, that…. Yes…. He is in fact, out here naked as a
jaybird. His flaccid member leaking come on the floor. Eeeeewwwww.
Gross. I’m not cleaning that up.

He doesn’t say a damn thing. His body is here
one second the next he’s gone, dashing into his bedroom and about a
minute later I’m being graced with his now clothed presence, along
with Cammy, completely pale faced with just-fucked hair. The whole
walk of shame wrapped in a little blonde package.
Zippty-doo-da.

This time, I can’t help but roll my eyes.
It’s nearly impossible. So I let them go. Eye rolling, shaking my
head in disgust, tsking, the whole shebang.

“We’re really sorry.” Cammy is the first to
speak. Leaning against the kitchen counter wearing Johnathan’s band
T-shirt. Johnathan petulantly standing and staring, clad in black
silk boxers and his Nirvana shirt.

“Sorry about what?” I’m trying to figure out
if it’s the lying, the catching them, or the sex in general she is
‘
sorry
’ about. It all seems like a load of crap.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million
times. If you have to apologize for something, then you shouldn’t
have been doing it in the first place. Saying sorry, is like
saying, ‘Hey, I did this because I’m a jerk. Even though I
shouldn’t have been doing it. But I’m going to use a bullshit word
to try and make it all better. For something I shouldn’t have done
in the first place.’ Hence, our current predicament.

It’s one thing to be sorry for an accident.
His dick landing in her pussy was no accident. And I’m not saying
the word
sorry
should be expelled from human vernacular. I’m
just saying that it’s used loosely to try and fix situations that
wouldn't need fixing if they were tended to properly before the
crime was committed. Ok… I’ve made my point… Moving along.

“I’m sorr—”

Johnathan cuts Cammy off. “We’re
not
sorry,” he blurts out quickly and then catches his breath, inhaling
and exhaling rather loudly, his chest rising and falling
rapidly.

“Ummmm…. Okay?” I’m confused. Are they, or
aren’t they sorry?

“Ok, I’m sorry you found out this way. I
should have, or
we
should have told you sooner. But I’m in
love with Cammy and we’ve been dating since before you came back
from Colorado.” It comes out of Johnathan’s mouth all sputtered and
fast. His leg twitching, as he keeps staring at me. Creeping me out
with his intense eyes.

What does he think I’m going to do? Be really
angry? It’s Johnathan. Come on. He is the habitual fuck up. I
am
pissed they didn’t tell me. That was bullshit. But if
he’s in love or they’re in love, I can’t really rain on something
that beautiful. I wouldn’t want someone to do that to me. Oh, wait,
Johnathan did that when he found out I fell in love with James.
However that’s neither here nor there. Let sleeping dogs lie.
Whatever that really means….

“Guys, breathe…It’s not the end of the world…
I’m livid that you didn’t tell me. Led me to believe you
still
wanted to get back together.” I look to Johnathan. Now
that part of the whole story makes no sense.

“He did,” Cammy pipes up, “And I knew that. I
was waiting for it to happen. Praying it wouldn’t, no offense.” I
nod, not taking offense. I’d feel the same way in her position. I
kind of did, when he was doing all of those terribly hurtful
things.

“I’ve loved him a long time and he’s loved me
too. It’s just complicated. And after you told him you didn’t want
to try again, it just made me even happier because I know he won’t
try to date anyone else but you. Except me of course, and he won’t
sleep with anyone else. He and I haven’t slept with anyone else in
a very long time.” She looks to him with such love. It warms my
heart right up and he looks back at her with the same affection.
How cute!

“No other women?” I look directly at him.

He shrugs. “No, just Cammy.”

I smile at them both. Happy for them.
Emotionally spent and exhausted, myself. I guess whatever works for
them, works for them. I just hope I never have to hear those sex
noises again.

Getting up from the couch, tired and worn,
like a ten dollar hooker. I grab both of their hands and squeeze
them into mine, giving them a sleepy smile.

“Congratulations. You are now out of the
closet.” I belly chuckle and grin, shaking my head, drained and
confused.

What a day, what a day, what a day.

“Be happy, me merry, I don’t give a fuck. I’m
tired, I need some sleep. And you’re on baby duty.” I tell them
both, looking back and forth between to the two. Then I drop both
of their hands, climb into my bunk for some much needed sleep. I
can’t wait to leave DC. I hate this damn town!

Chapter Fifteen

~James~

Concert Night- Washington DC

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gonzales
asks, standing by the front door, hand on the nob, dressed in a
black Stricken shirt, jeans and a pair of sleek black heels.

“Yes, I’m positive. If she’s this close I
have to see her. Even if it’s from a distance. I can’t go another
however many months without at least the briefest of looks,” I
explain, bent over, tucking my ankle knife into its holster and
making sure it’s secured tightly in place.

Gonzales and I are headed into the city to
watch the Stricken concert as spectators. It will be my first
mingling with the crowd and not backstage. A week ago after yet
another mental health evaluation; my fourth one, and another round
of interrogation regarding the death of Dr.D. I caught downwind of
the Stricken concert stopping in DC. Someone was chatting about it
as I passed by, on my way out of the Pentagon.

As soon as I left, I called up my good ol’
buddy Brewer and begged him. And I do mean
begged
him, to
run interference somehow so I could go to that concert, and so I
could call Davis and have him contact Claire. I wouldn’t think
twice about doing it myself. But they have us on even tighter
lockdown since my sicko neighbor wound up murdered and I was the
culprit to literally blow his brains out.

We already had cameras in every room of the
safe house, taps on our phones and if we leave without them we get
in trouble and it gets called in. We have a tracker on our only
vehicle and a black SUV is now stationed day in and day out,
against the curb down the block from the house. They are trying to
make sure the death of the drug dealer doesn’t catch up to us and
we get killed. Or what I mean to say is, someone or a group of
someone’s
attempts
to kill us. I don’t see that happening.
But, I’ve been wrong about a few things before. My head’s out of
the game and has been for quite some time now.

After I pleaded with Brewer that night, our
phones magically had to have an update and to do so they had to
shut down the taps, giving me precisely twenty three minutes to
call and set up my newest plan. My plan to see Emily. Even if it
kills me. I’m already dead inside without her. I can’t imagine it
getting any worse.

Making the call to Davis was short and sweet,
he got in touch with Claire to keep Emily company. It’s better than
having Johnathan do it or any other man. I know Emily well enough
to know she wouldn’t want to pester Claire to attend the concert
for her benefit, considering that Claire is madly in love with some
business owner an hour outside of New York City. So I had the call
put in, as well as secured us tickets to the show. All of that was
the easiest part. The hardest was convincing Brewer to assign us a
bogus Intel order, to investigate the possibility of Dr. D’s
dealers dispersing his merchandise at rock concerts. It smells like
a hoax, but he did it anyhow. Now I’m left feeling terrible for
putting him in this sticky position. Considering all the work he’s
already been doing, trying to get me out of this hellhole sooner
than twelve months. Yes, I said it. Twelve god dammed months. I
thought it would be shorter but that’s not what the latest orders
that came down the ladder, state. That’s also an additional
sentence to the weeks we’ve already served.

When we got
that
letter, I was so
angry I went off like a hell storm. Punching two holes in my
bedroom wall and I went downstairs to grab a bottle of water to
cool down. Only to be more explosive up by the time I hit the
kitchen, so I trashed the pantry. Smashing jars of pickles,
expensive jellies, ripping boxes of rice to smithereens, cans had
huge dents in the sides, noodles were crushed, and all of it was
left to rot on the ground, right next to my newly injured bare
feet. By the time I was through, the luxury custom built pantry was
torn into a pile of unfixable rubble. The only thing left standing
was its metal frame. The pantry was initially built into the cookie
cutter house as a safe room. Much good it did me. I didn’t feel
safe. I was a vicious monster on a tirade because I was being held
like a caged bear unable to break free into the wild to find my
mate.